


As the Wheels Turn

by Garnet62790



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Flushed, High School AU, Humanstuck, M/M, POV Second Person, Possible NSFW (LATER)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:54:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garnet62790/pseuds/Garnet62790
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Which An Anxiety Attack is Dodged, Shitty Music is Listened To, and Dave Strider Is the Coolest Kid Around.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which An Anxiety Attack is Dodged, Shitty Music is Listened To, and Dave Strider Is the Coolest Kid Around.

A new day. A new school. A new life. A new beginning.

Of course it had to start with a bus ride. The one place that was worse than sitting at a new table in a new lunchroom, simply because more often than not, one was forced to sit next to someone that one didn't know, didn't want to know, and didn't give two flying FUCKS about knowing.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you were fighting an anxiety attack.

You wanted nothing more than to hide in the collar of your turtlenecked sweater and never be looked upon again.

"Sit down." The bus driver barked, startling you into an embarissing jump that would have included flailing arms if you hadn't been clutching your sides so damn hard.

Your dark crimson eyes scanned the rows. Empty seat next to a greasy slob shoving what looked like breakfast into his mouth, but was making you gag, so you looked away. Empty seat next to what could be called a 'goth' chick, all black clothes and hard lines of makeup, who made your breath hitch even harder. Empty seat in the back next to some kid, who...actually looked kind of normal.

Of course, it was at the very back of the bus, which meant you had to walk your ass down the aisle and hope not to trip like a fuckhead who has two left feet. (You might as well had two left feet, but you didn't want to dwell on that, there were more pressing things to attend to, like this FUCKING MILE OF A WALK.)

And of course, just as you were taking your first step, that FUCKHEAD of a busdriver chose that exact moment to press his foot down and get this yellow monstrosity moving, which caused you to stumble like an absolute idiot. Luckily, you caught yourself on the seat, dodging a face plant into some slutty broad's tit factory, but only just barely.

One foot after the other, and slowly you made your way to the back of the bus, swallowing back your closing throat and focusing on your breathing. You were NOT going to have an asthma attack about THIS, of all the things in the world.

The boy looked up at you, or at least, you imagined he looked up, because he was wearing the biggest fucking aviators you had ever seen, and you were good a being pessimistic and thinking the whole world was looking at you, and this was making you breathe heavy, and you almost fainted right there, but you managed to fall into the seat with all the grace you can muster, and you swear you see the douche's (because who else wears SUNGLASSES LIKE THAT?) mouth turn into a sneer, but you swear you aren't looking.

You swallow audibly, pushing your ear buds into your ears, and you relax almost instantly, thumbing through your music lazily, settling on something soothing, classical. You turn your gaze out the window, proud of the conquest that was the bus and trying not to think about how you were going to have to do this every day for the next ten months.

\---------

Your name was Dave Strider and your personal space had just been invaded by some new kid who obviously didn't know bus seat etiquette because he didn't even ASK before he plopped has ass down like he owned the place.

Of course you had looked up at this idiot, eyes hidden safely behind your awesomely ironic (and private people-watching enablers) shade. He had taken out his I-pod out of his pants pocket (the tightness of which were rivaling yours, and you were not to happy about that) and had settled on something CLASSICAL, or all things. It occurred to you that maybe you should teach him waht real music was like, but by the way he was breathing, you figured that would probably give him a heart attack.

Instead, you moved your fine ass over a bit, giving him more room, and putting some space between you. The scowl affixed to him lips gave him the look of a ticking time bomb, and you weren't exactly keen on incurring whatever wrath may come out of his mouth if and when the bus jostled you into touching him.

But classical? Man, you would have to say something to this kid eventually if he kept that shit up. Really. Just thinking about it was making you embarassed to sit next to this dork. Only the cool kids sat in the back, after all, and this kid, in his tight grey jeans and huge ass black sweater, was definitely not a cool kid. Probably far from it.

So you turned your music up loud, loud enough that he could probably here it over his shitty violins or whatever, and settled into looking out your own window, fingers tapping your leg in time to the sick beats, and you eventually forget that he is there.

\--------

And that's how you two spend the first few days together. Every day he listens to something classical, and every day you drown out his very existence with your noise blocking headphones. It's comfortable, and you like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So forgive me if there are any tense changes in here. I've never written anything in second person before and it's a little daunting. Overall, I think this is a good start. I welcome any criticism (PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT I'M DOING WRONG). 
> 
> Overall, I think this is a good start. I'm open to suggestions and the like. This is my first fanfiction EVER, but I felt it was high time to contribute to the wonderful fandom surrounding my OTP.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dave gets handsy and Karkat gets huffy.

It takes a week for you to finally put your foot down and say something. A week of looking at his almost-tighter-than-your pants, his unbelieveably shitty taste in music, and the slow creep of his legs into your personal space.

He practically jumps out of his skin when you touch his arm.

"What the fuck?" His attempt at covering his surprise is almost comical, except for the light red blush that became to form across his harsh cheekbones.

"Dude. One, your sense of personal space is impecable. Two, your choice in music is completely unironically lame, and if you want to continue taking up residence back here in the coolkid section of the bus, I will be forced to intervene."

He looks at you like you have fifteen heads, mouth slightly open, like a deer in headlights. You almost feel sorry for him-ALMOST.

"And by forcefully, I mean shove some actual MUSIC into your skull so hard you're hemorrhaging sick fires like you're the a fucking knight-slaying dragon."

He just gapes at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Sick fires that burn the shit out of anything that moves until the princess is all, swoon, I will be your maiden, dragon, your fires are too hot for even the most skilled of war-"

"What the ever loving FUCK are you even talking about."

His voice stops you dead, and you realize that you were rambling, voice inflections and all. About what? Sick fires or some shit. Damn, his mouth looked smooth.

"Do you make a habit of spewing word vomit at every poor soul that sits next to you?"

He wrenches his arm out of a grip you weren't even aware you still had on him, and stands up, staggering with the sway of the bus and making his way slowly down the aisle, painstakingly trying to avoid tripping over his own face at every bump and swerve of the bus.

Shit son. You hadn't meant to scare the kid away.

\-------

Fucking asshole, ugh. You couldn't believe that little shit. With his hipster-looking headphones and his stupid ass shades. Who the fuck did he think he was? Some fucking music guru obviously. 

You glower and stubbornly take a seat next to some dorky looking kid with glasses and a slight overbite. You do your best in fixing the most threatening glare on your face as you possible can, because fuck if you want to talk to anyone else after being subjected to that fucking douchebag.

There was nothing wrong with your music, and you knew that, and all the music critics who knew anything about anything knew that, but for some reason, it hit a chord in you, and you didn't even want to look at your ipod anymore. You spend the rest of the ride with your arms crossed, pout painted on your lips, trying to zone out the sounds of rabble and engine around you.

Fucking dickweed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter, but I promise that the chapters will be longer as the two interact more. I'm kind of just going with the flow here, so the chapter breaks will be where they are most comfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which a Victory is Had, A Horizon is Expanded, and A Fine Ass is Checked Out

It has been three days since you starting sitting next to Egderp. All the damn kid did was talk. And talk. And talk. And talk. Nick Cage and Mario Kart and Sburb and penpals and Do you have a chumhandle and girls and boys and life stories and too much information and on and on and on.

Three days of that blithering idiot was all you could stand before you needed a break. And today, you would have that break. Today, you would reclaim your seat at the back of the bus. You were prepared. A new playlist. No classical music. You were ready.

You take the steps one by one, slow enough to make the bus driver bark out words that you can't quite hear over your headphones.

There, at the end of the bus, you see him. Face turned straight forward, as if he was waiting for you. What a fucking weirodpath. You're not looking, but he's got notebook on his lap that he's tapping away at with his pen (impatiently or to the beat of a song, you can't tell from this distance).

You slowly come up to Egderp, (come on, when you're ditching him you can at least give him the respect of a real name-Egbert) and as you notice there is absolutely no seat available except for the one next to douchenozzle in the back, you suddenly want to ABORT ABORT, but have no where to go but down the aisle. Your feet are heavy and your nerves are on end, and you're sure you'll just melt into a puddle of goop right there and then if he doesn't turn his fucking shadegaze away from you.

But no, he has to do the next best fucking thing, right, right?

You register his mouth moving, and for a split second you think you've gone deaf, because he's clearly speaking, but you hear nothing at all, just the woosh of blood through your head and your pounding heart, and then you're berating yourself for being such an ignoramus as you pull the ear buds out of your ears.

He's patting the seat beside him and you can cooly play off the fact that you didn't hear a word he said becuase obviously he wants you to sit next to him and Oh God you're rambling in your own head and you fight flying into the seat before you pee yourself like a little school girl because his skin is like fucking porcelin and you can't breathe and-

Luckily, you are triumphant in looking like Rico Suave, sliding into the seat with a gracefullness you weren't ever aware you could muster, and pointedly looking out the window.

\-------

The kid lasted two days longer than ever you had sitting with Egbert, and you had to admire his stubborness. You watched him out the window as the bus pulled up to his stop. He was wearing the same oversized turtleneck and skinny jeans, and no, you were not checking out that fine ass, you were just trying to see what brand they were.

You turned your gaze forward as he made his painstakingly slow ascent up the stairs, intent on getting the comfort of his warmth back (although if asked, you would say you felt bad for berating this kid when you thought there was a CONNECTION), tapping your pen impatiently against the notebook resting on your knees.

He was a fucking slug though. And there was that deer-in-headlights look again, like somone was grabbing his butt and he had no idea what to do about it. No other seats on the bus today, too bad for you, pissy pants. You have to sit next to me.

But you weren't being glib about it, not at all.

Finally he was before you, and you compliantly moved your legs out of the way, patting the seat next to you. "Have a seat, princess."

Apparently he didn't hear you (and was that a blush rising in his cheeks?) as he basically flew into the seat next to you, pressing himself against the metal siding of the bus and stared out the window.

So that was how it was gonna be, huh? Playing hard to get?

You reach out and touch his shouder, just as you had three days ago, and damn if he doesn't jump out of his skin again.

"Get your fucking filthy paws off me." He snaps, death glare on his face.

"Hey." You hold your hands up like, woah, back the fuck up man, eyes wide behind the dark lenses for impact, but of course he couldn't see that part. "Just trying to expand your knowledge in the arts, you know, show you that crotchedly old men-"

"They weren't all old men.'

"Well fuck, I'm trying to apologize here and you're burning me with all your vast knowledge. Forgive me, oh great master of inteligence." You even give him a mock bow, that he scoffs at, but thankfully doesn't put his ear buds back into his ears, so you guess you're getting somewhere. "I wanted to show you some shit, maybe expand your repitoire a bit, if you know what I mean."

He blinks at you (jesus eyelashes like that should be illegal) and slowly nods, obviously not really sure how to take what you're saying, and that's cool to you, you like to keep people on their toes.

He even slowly lets the mini speakers fall into his lap, which you didn't let your gaze drop to, nope, not at all.

You didn't really know what else to say, so you pulled the headphones off from around your neck and shoved them over his ears, jabbing your thumb at the play button before he could rip them off or protest, a feat in and of itself.

\----------

You were about to throw your arms up in protest when suddenly, for lack of a better and appropriate word, your ears were orgasming.

It was classical music, but it wasn't. It was blashphemous but beautiful. You could hear Beethoven, Mozart, Debussy, Chopin, Bach, and even some you didn't recognize, and it was all mashed together and there were these machine sounds, and oh my god if you didn't want to just melt into the atmosphere because this shit was fucking perfect.

And then suddenly silence.

You turned your face to him, a frown pulling at your lips as you watched his smug smile. 

"What the fuck was that shitstorm?" You asked, shoving the too big headphones back into his hands.

(Your breath almost caught in your throat as your figers brushed against his, or did they? The phantom touch was exhilerating. What the fuck? You weren't gay.)

He fucking chuckled at you, resting them back around his neck (which was not slender, nope, not at all), and rolled his shoulders.

"It's called Dubstep. You should listen to other shit sometimes, you know, expand your horizions."

You blinked at him. The last time you had listened to Dubstep it was some infernal screeching of metal sounds and you had almost puked your brains out from the vibrations. Then again, you had been at a party, a really bad party...and...you weren't going to think about that anymore.

"Er, it was cool I guess." Your voice was uncharacteristically quite then, and you thumbed your Ipod's wheel, not knowing what to say, actually kind of speechless for once.

"No problem. S'what a Strider does. Educating the ignorant and all that."

And with that, he lifted the headphones to his ears and looked out the window, jiggling his leg up and down as the bus kept on rolling.

You followed suit and let out a sigh of relief. You got your seat back. Victory was yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is quite a bit longer. I feel like I am writing a bit too fast, but it just keeps flowing from my fingertips. If it seems rushed or something, let me know and I'll force myself to slow down. I'm just so eager for these babus to have love that I can't stop!


End file.
